


When You Came In, The Air Went Out

by boltschick2612



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Philadelphia Flyers, Tampa Bay Lightning, remembering the first time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 17:32:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3076145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boltschick2612/pseuds/boltschick2612
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steven had decided, about three road trips into last season, that he actually enjoys having an entire hotel room to himself, as empty and lonely as it can sometimes feel. </p><p> </p><p>Or, Steven thinks about his past while he lays and waits for his present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Came In, The Air Went Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the beginning part to a fic I started a long while ago, but I decided that if I wait until I finish it to post it, it'll never get posted. So, I updated it, and decided to post it as the beginning chapter, in the hopes of finishing the rest sooner rather than later.
> 
> Takes place during any one of the Lightning's road trips to Philly. 
> 
> Title taken from 'Bad Things' by Jace Everett
> 
> Fiction is fiction.

Steven had decided, about three road trips into last season, that he actually enjoys having an entire hotel room to himself on the road, as empty and lonely as it can sometimes feel. He's always been a pretty independent person, but it isn't about that. It's the mere fact that if he did have a roommate, he wouldn't be allowed to enjoy the opportunity that should be knocking on his hotel room door at any minute. He wouldn't be able to lay on the unfamiliar bed, alone and anxiously awaiting the sounds of a heavy, rhythmic pounding on the solid wooden door.

Instead, he's free to lay in silence and let his mind wander to all the moments in the past that had brought him to where he is today. However, he isn't thinking of shooting pucks in his parents basement, skating on a frozen pond in Ontario, or hearing his name called first in the 2008 NHL Draft. Those are all thoughts he could have at any time, anywhere. What he's thinking about now is the moments that came immediately following the draft.

Steven loves to let his mind linger on the memory of stepping outside the Scotiabank Place and into the humid night, the air clinging wet to his skin. The whole night had been a blur of excitement and expectations, with one moment seemingly running into the next. As much as Steven had looked forward to the draft, in that second, he could honestly say he was glad it was over. At least then, he knew what his future held, and he knew what to expect. What he wasn't expecting, however, was the feeling of a hand clasping down on his shoulder.

Probably the only part of that night that Steven remembers perfectly is the way he had spun around to be greeted by Michael's smile, and the look in Michael's eyes as he grabbed at his wrists and breathlessly whispered 'I got us a hotel room.' Steven was rendered speechless, and almost breathless by the way Micheal's eyes were a deep pool of promise, and Steven knew right then and there that he'd never be able to pull himself from the hold Michael had on him.

In the few short years following that night, Steven would often try to replay the whole thing in his mind. Each time a different detail would come into focus, and blur out all the rest, causing once sharp memories to fade into the background. Sometimes, Steven could recall clearly the storm that flashed in Michael's dark, brown eyes as he pushed him past the threshold of a hotel room that moments earlier hadn't even existed in Steven's world. This detail would be fresh in Steven's mind, while the subtle nuances, such as how the hotel room looked, would be lost in Steven's deep sea of memories. Then there were other times when Steven could almost feel the rough, dull beige wallpaper scraping over his back as Michael had him pinned against the wall, hauling his shirt over his head with an unmistakable tenacity.

What Steven finds his mind fixating on now is not so much what he saw, or felt, but what he heard. The sounds of that night start to play in his head, like an old cassette tape that had been played so many times, some tracks had become worn and muted. It doesn't matter, he knows every song by heart. The hollow chirp of the electronic lock, granting them access to the room with a simple swipe of the key card. The muffled padding of dress shoes over thick carpet as they both entered wordlessly into the room, and the dull hum of the air conditioner. The heavy thud of his back meeting the wall behind him, and the loud rush of blood in his ears as Michael's strong hands held him there. Most of all, Steven knows the low tones of Michael's smooth voice as he whispered 'just say the word, and we'll both walk away.'

The cassette starts to play the next track in Steven's mind; the ragged sounds of his breathing, and his heart pounding out of his chest as he tried to come up with the right words to tell Michael that he's everything he wanted, but he didn't know how. Steven fast forwards to the part where delicious moans escaped Michael as he came, only to be swallowed up by Steven's eagerly awaiting mouth. He then rewinds to the part where he started to confess that he'd 'never done this before', but Michael stopped his trembling flow of words with a gentle kiss, because 'we've both been saving for this moment.'

Then, the tape is forcibly paused by a shrill chirp coming from Steven's phone. The sound reaches over the chasm of time, from the present day and into the past, infiltrating into the corners of all the memories playing in his mind, but he still doesn't move to retrieve the phone from the nightstand. He's so entrenched in his thoughts that he's half not sure what it is, and half not interested. The sound repeats once more, and as much as Steven tries to push it to the back of his mind, it's just enough to pull him from the haze of this thoughts. It takes a few seconds for his mind to focus, and for him to remember where he is. Right. It isn't 2008 anymore, and he's not in Ottawa. He wasn't drafted first overall only hours prior, and he isn't currently releasing everything he had ever wanted into one Michael Del Zotto.

The sounds and memories of that night are still so fresh, and vivid in his mind, that Steven has to stop for a second to remind himself that he's in Philly, it's 2014, and they had just arrived in town to play the Flyers. As soon as his mind grasps onto that fact, other details flood his mind. Details such the overly turbulent flight, and how it had utterly drained him. He had never been so happy to step foot on solid ground, and as soon as he did, Steven wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a soft bed. He had at least gotten that far, but he hadn't the energy for much else. He thought that collapsing on the bed with nothing but a damp towel around his waist was a far better option than fighting his aching muscles trying to dig some clothes from his suitcase. 

The hotel room's AC may be a notch too high for his bare, damp skin, but Steven is having a hard time finding a reason to care. There also may be a small part of him hoping the entire evening passes without the necessity of getting dressed, anyways.

Steven starts to think that he just might be content laying alone in the soft, comfortable hotel bed, letting his mind play on all the moments he had with Michael in the past, when he's suddenly snapped from his thoughts by a hard, sharp knock on the hotel room door. His heart races as he starts to get up, realizing he doesn't have to wait a second longer.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [ Tumblr ](http://boltschick2612.tumblr.com/), if you wanna do the follow thing.


End file.
